Define Love: SYOC
by thathuman
Summary: SYOC CLOSED Prince Lucas is positive he knows what love is; he is certain that the connection he feels with a palace maid must be what his parents felt for each other. But when Lucas begins to go through the process of the Selection he is forced to have, he must choose between the maid he thought he loved or one of the girls he believes might be the one. 35/35
1. Chapter 1

Hi! This is my first SYOC and story, so please be patient with me. I'm really excited for this and to see who wins. I'm taking 35 girls, but I have a few guidelines:

1) NO mary-sues/Americas. Be original! I want to see variety; good girls, bad girls, serious girls, party girls, etc. I hate seeing the practically perfect girl with a "weakness" that is not that bad at all. I will refuse these girls if I get them, sorry.

2) PM only. It seems a lot easier and less stressful, and I can be more organized with how many girls I'm getting. I'm really sorry Guests, but you should get an account!

3) Please be detailed! I'm trying to know and picture the same girl you are, and I can only see it with what you write.

4) I will allow a maximum of 2 girls per person. They don't have to be complete opposites, but they cannot be almost exactly the same.

Form is on my profile. I will PM you if I need clarification or if something needs changing. Enjoy submitting! I know some of the things seem silly but they're things I will try to incorporate somewhere in the story. Who will Prince Lucas choose? I don't know yet!


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! This is the first chapter, and, though it is a filler, it introduces a very important character: Vivienne, the maid mentioned in the summary. This is a small peek into her life and her thoughts. There are still spots open! Please submit! I do need a few mean girls and a few girls from Caste 5. Thank you those who have entered and those who will, and thanks to anybody reading this AN and chapter! Haha... And now, enjoy!**

Steam rises from the dozens of basins containing hot water. The large room is filled with condescending shouts and splashing and scrubbing, like a melody. Scrub scrub splash. Scrub scrub splash. Over and over again. Sweat drips down the maids' foreheads as they do their only job: cleaning the clothes of the guards and the royals.

Each maid sits on a stool at their own basin, dunking and scrubbing each article of clothing until it is deemed clean by the head maid, who walks around with a posture similar to the military commander of the guards. She snaps at a young girl, who is, at most, fifteen years old, when the poor maid takes a break. The girl breathes hard as sweat mixes with tears that trickle down her red cheeks. She holds her shaking, blistered hands as the head maid angrily approaches her. The girl looks up to the head maid with pleas and apologies and promises, but to no avail; she is slapped upside the head. The impact causes her to plummet forward and grasp the edge of the slippery porcelain basin before her head hits the water. She cries out in pain as the hot skin on her knuckles splits open. The head maid roughly grabs the girl's tightly braided bun -the standard hairdo required for all maids- and pushes her head into the steaming water. The maids seated around the struggling girl don't even glance up to watch the exchange; they know better than to reproach their boss. The head maid pulls the girl out of the water and gives her a few seconds of gasping and choking, then dunks her under again. This occurs five more times until the head maid tilts the girl's head back and snarls, "You never stop working until you're done cleaning, and this-" she grabs the button down shirt that lazily floats in the water, "is not clean. Get back to work." She lets the small girl's bun go, and continues her rounds, watching, like a predator waiting for prey.

She walks down the aisle, almost strutting, as she examines the maids working. She stops at one basin where a girl around the age of nineteen cleans a pair of suit pants. The maid's dull orange hair is frizzy from the stuffy heat, and her thick hair barely holds the bun. Dark brown eyes focus on the object she is washing as she pretends not to notice the head maid looming over her shoulder. Thin lips disappear as she pulls them into her mouth in anticipation. She awaits a harsh comment or a slap for something she has done wrong, but seconds go by and nothing happens.

As the maid brings the pants out of the water to scrub again, the head maid pushes her hands away as she takes the sopping wet pants from her and holds them up, inspecting them. After twisting and turning the pants, she nods and glances at the young woman sitting anxiously on the stool. Her hands are folded together, as they should be, according to the Maid's Handbook, and she keeps her head bowed.

"Vivienne," the head maid says to her, "go take these to the Drying Room. They're clean." Rising from her stool, Vivienne curtsies, and with a small "thanks", she takes the pants. "Wait," the head maid calls, "How many articles have you cleaned today?" she asks, and Vivienne notes that there is no malice in her tone.

"Sixteen total; five shirts, three pairs of pants, four pairs of shoes, two pairs of underwear, and two pairs of socks," Vivienne replies. She meets the head maid's cold blue eyes as she stares at Vivienne in thought. Looking away for a moment, the head maid commands her, "Take the rest of the day off. Your work today has been complete." Vivienne nods and briskly walks away and out of She keeps them gingerly away from her body as she carries them out the door. Breathing in the fresh, cool air, she feels the heat from her face slowly disappear. The door across from her is labeled "Drying Room" on a gold plaque on the right side of the wall.

Inside, pants, shirts, coats, and even belts and shoes hang in their categorized station. She walks towards the desk in the front of the room, where a gray-haired maid with glasses is checking off received and released clothing. The older woman writes and scribbles for a minute before asking the article number and owner without looking up.

"Article 1739, Guard Rivenson," Vivienne replies instantly. The woman nods and writes the information down on a sticker, then places the sticker on a hanger. She takes the pair of wet pants that are still dripping onto the clean tile floor and hangs them up. She disappears behind the pants section, then reappears a few seconds later. Returning to the desk, she hands Vivienne a clipboard and pen. Vivienne searches for her article's number, then signs her name next to it in the column titled "Item's Washer". She hands the pen and clipboard back to the old woman then curtsies and turns to walk out of the room.

Closing the door behind her, Vivienne turns left and walks down the long hallway, which has a couple doors on each side. Recognizing the rooms labeled "Dirty Collection" and "Clean Clothes", she sighs, wishing a promotion to a better job could come soon. Her hands are rough and the skin has been burnt so many times she no longer feels the heat of the water. The shoulders that should be soft and feminine are broad and muscular and her back is chronically in pain from hunching over so much.

Unfortunately, this is her life and the only way to keep herself alive. She greatly dislikes it, but, as her father is a cook in the kitchen and her mother is a dusting maid, she had ended up working as soon as she turned twelve, the minimum working age for sixes. She had no choice in her job selection; the Chief Maids put her where work was most needed, which happened to be in the Washing Room, the most despised job in the palace. Seven years later and Vivienne still works in the Washing Room every day of the year, with the exception of June 16, her birthday.

Vivienne doesn't like to pity herself. She knows it would do her no good, all the moping and sighing and dreaming and hoping. Life for her is what has been given to her, yet she's managed to discover an escape, an outing from the laborious years of just existing and working without truly _feeling_ the positive feelings. Joy, content, and freedom are among the list of unfelt feelings, whereas anger, sadness, and fear are _always_ felt, and Vivienne wishes she had a fair balance of both. That plan is her hope to feel...

It has a slim chance of succeeding, but she is desperate to leave and forget working had for _somebody else_ without a gracious word or reward. She wants to be someone, not something. Wants her own image, her own self, Vivienne wants control. Who is she? She is a maid...but is that it? Surely she must be made of something more descriptive, right? She is tired of questioning her identity; Vivienne doesn't know herself besides what everyone else in Illea has told her she is: a six, a maid who works in the palace, but nothing more. She wants to be funny or serious or courageous or cowardly. If she can just get away from tiring work, run away from the troubles of being a six, maybe she can find who she is. If she could just figure out her own self, what makes her who she is, maybe she'd be content with her job. If she could just _see_ herself, maybe her feelings of insecurity and distress would slowly fade away. If, if, if...

Vivienne's so lost in her thoughts she doesn't realize she's in the Workers' Quarter until she almost runs into Door 529. Fishing the rusty key from the left chest pocket of her uniform, she jiggles it around in the lock before pushing the old door open. It creaks and wiggles, and Vivienne wonders how much longer the door will stay intact. She hurries inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind her.

She sighs, leaning her head against the door and pretending that all of her stupidly negative and wishful thoughts were blocked by the door. Turning around, Vivienne searches the small room for signs of life. Two small cots sit with their headboards against the left wall. Separating them is a small dresser. A plain black rectangular decorates the plain room. Dirty white walls and hard cream tile, with a ceiling light but no fan. The room is windowless, as the whole Workers' Quarters living complex is a couple stories underground. The light is already on, illuminating only a quarter of the area. To the right of her is a closet and a long, floor-length mirror. None of the rooms has bathrooms; there are communal bathrooms with showers on each floor.

Walking over to her cot, a flash of orange catches Vivienne's eye and she turns towards it. Often times, Vivienne ignores the mirror, knowing that all she will find would be unattractive. But now, as she looks in the long mirror, the image that reflects back motivates her to leave this life even more. Dull orange hair, lifeless brown eyes, and an always frowning face stares back at her. Why should she live her short life unhappy? It isn't fair.

She looks away. _Negative and wishful thoughts stay on the other side of the door_ , she reminds herself. She spins around and goes over to her cot, sitting down next to the lump that was curled underneath the thin covers.

"Ethan," she whispers, gently shaking the small boy. "Ethan, wake up. It's Viv. Don't you want to say hello to me?" Ethan groans and sits up, rubbing his half-lidded blue eyes. He looks around with temporary confusion before his eyes catch on Vivienne's orange hair.

" _Pretty_ ," he says, climbing onto Vivienne and pulling and twisting her hair until it falls out of its bun. Ethan squeals with delight as the pins make little _pings_ when they collide with the floor. Vivienne strokes Ethan's wildly curly orange hair as he sits looking at Vivienne in wonder. He crosses and uncrosses his eyes, and soon a line of drool begins to dribble from his mouth.

Vivienne giggles and playfully says, "Whoops! Better clean that up before you create a river." Ethan, not fully understanding the words but liking the tone of voice, was put in a giggle fit. Vivienne gets up and grabs the cloth from the top drawer from the dresser that is specifically set aside for times like this and wipes the thick slobber off the eleven year old's face. Ethan is still giggling, but he abruptly stops as he feels the cloth against his skin. He screws his eyes together and shakes his head, trying to stop the uncomfortable rubbing.

"Ethan, I have to clean you up," Vivienne tries to explain, grabbing Ethan's chin. This only makes the boy more upset and he begins to wail and cry. The older sister sighs and drops the cloth. The responsibilities of taking care of her mentally ill brother are immense and frustrating.

Vivienne's family had suspected Ethan's illness as soon as he begun to form jumbled words. When he turned two, the family had felt hope subside into sadness when he still was not forming phrases or words. However, Vivienne's parents were willing to do anything to keep their son from becoming a helpless eight. With the discreet help of a Chief Maid who took pity on the family, Ethan's file disappeared. It was almost as if he never existed in the first place. Vivienne couldn't care less if Ethan was technically nonexistent; nothing mattered as long as he was safe.

Ethan is small for his age, and Vivienne picks him up and sets him on her hip, bouncing him. His crying becomes sniffles, then turns into hiccups. Vivienne giggles as Ethan tries to cover his mouth or hit his chest, unsure why his body is doing such a strange thing. Walking around the room, she continues to bounce him, and, after a couple minutes, his hiccups go away.

She sets Ethan down and looks at the clock that hangs above the door.

 _7:23_

Suddenly Vivienne's sad mood is lifted and is replaced with hope. In seven minutes, she would be meeting her secret lover, if she could even call him that. She truthfully feels no love towards him, but being in a relationship with him pours benefits. He is her escape plan. If he marries Vivienne, not only could she find her identity with newfound freedom, but Ethan would be able to live beyond Door 529 without the fear of him being dropped castes. Her parents would no longer have to work endless hours, but would be able to live the rest of their lives in luxury. Only positive things could come from a marriage, and Vivienne is willing to sacrifice finding true love one day for her family.

In seven minutes, another secret meeting with her "lover" would commence.

In seven minutes, she would be kissing Prince Lucas yet again.

 **Oh Vivienne, what a sneaky girl. So there it was! I do need more submissions! I am not deciding who will be Prince Lucas' match until after I receive all characters. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my goodness! I can't apologize enough for how long it's been! So terribly sorry; I've been sick to my stomach. This next chapter is another filler, but it is so so so important. I'm still accepting girls, so please enter. I will not decide who will win until I have received all of them. So, with that, please enjoy the next chapter, and review to tell me what you guys think!**

After making sure Ethan was calm and tucked back into bed, Vivienne left Door 529, locking it behind her. Always being the slower one to finish jobs, her parents believed that Viv was still in the Washing Room completing her work for the day. Because of this, sneaking out was never a problem. She walked up the cracked stairs with excited speed and pep, imagining what that night's meeting would produce. Viv couldn't necessarily say she was excited to see Prince Lucas, but she was entranced by the secrecy and profits that came with the relationship. The meetings at 7:30 p.m. on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on the balcony where the abandoned rooftop greenhouse was were always looked forward too by both parties. Every week since two years ago Lucas and Vivienne met in the unnoticed part of the palace, even in the cold and rain. Even tonight, in the chilly November air, Vivienne didn't bother bringing her thin sweater; Lucas always warmed her up with his cuddling and kisses.

Kissing Lucas was, at first, difficult to pretend was enjoyable, but Vivienne had learned to act very well as a young girl; she dreamed of becoming an actress and being loved by the country because of her "poor maid" story. She had long since forgotten that dream; Vivienne faced her harsh reality as soon as she began working in the Washing Room. Yet even though she let her hopes of starting an acting career fade away, she used the skills she had worked on into good use with Lucas. Handholding and sweet talks became more comfortable and passionate kisses held more fire, but they'd never gone farther than that. Lucas was quite the gentleman and respected Vivienne's boundaries. She wanted the "I do"s before she was completely committed.

It wasn't that Vivienne didn't like Lucas, but she just didn't feel the spark she knew she should've felt. The complete and utter adoration Lucas held for her was difficult to pretend to reciprocate, and she couldn't help but wonder how she had made a man like him fall for a girl like her. It was completely absurd, but Vivienne thanked her acting skills. Sometimes Vivienne felt guilty for leading him on this one-sided relationship; Lucas was a great young man that was going to be a fantastic King one day, and he deserved a woman who truly loved him, but Vivienne was determined to live a better life, and if she was to be named a shallow, selfish scum of the Earth, so be it.

It took a good five minutes to get to the greenhouse, so by the time Vivienne arrived, Lucas was already there. He was casually leaning against a rusted steel post, looking down with his arms crossed. Vivienne's stomach dropped as she stepped into the cold night and realized this meeting was not going to begin positively, like it usually did. She knew the little things about Lucas that most didn't; arms crossed meant he was conflicted or angry, and looking down meant he was upset. Acquiring this knowledge wasn't particularly difficult for Vivienne as she had always been very observant. Lucas seemed so lost in thought as to not even notice her entrance, and so, as to not greatly startle him, she scraped her foot slightly on the cement as she walked over to where he was. He looked up instantly, gray eyes wide and alert as arms instantly drop to his sides. Viv hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck- how he liked it most- as he wrapped his around her waist. He pulled her closer and kissed her softly, a sweet one that should've caused a tornado of butterflies to swirl in Vivienne's stomach, but left her feeling empty. She let her eyes flutter close as his did the same. She thought she heard a sound from behind her, where the entrance was, but dismissed it as part of the broken down structure they were standing in. Pulling away, she put on a smile as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, breathily saying, "Hey."

He smirked, eyes lighting up to the color of the moon above. "Hello, my beautiful," he whispered. Vivienne had to admit that the attention and sweet pet names felt nice, especially after being practically invisible her whole life. She let go of her tight hold on his neck, but grabbed both of his hands and held them in hers. She noticed how he looked down at her hands and rubbed his thumbs over her rough knuckles slowly. Lucas bit the inside of his cheek and looked into her dark brown eyes, flicking back and forth between them. Closing her eyes, Vivienne breathed in deeply and sighed. When she opened them, she cocked her head slightly to the side and asked, "What's wrong" in a light and seemingly concerned voice. He let go of her hands and looked down at his feet, scratching his neck nervously. Vivienne waited patiently as he searched for the right words. Eventually, he brought his eyes up to hers and kept them there.

"The news that I will be telling you is something that was against my choice," he began strongly. "I had no say in the decision and I am thinking desperately how to fix this. You have to know that I'm trying to find a solution," Lucas said as he grabbed Vivienne's broad shoulders, almost as if to keep himself stable and upright. She nodded vigorously, surprised and anxious of his words and the uncertainty she could detect in his stormy irises.

"Of course, Lucas. You're a problem solver; if anything's wrong I know you'll fix it," she told him, knowing her words rang with truth. "You know I'm your right hand man. I'm with you every step of the way. Just tell me what's wrong, baby. Let me help."

Lucas nods stiffly, eyes not leaving hers. He clears his throat and breathes in deeply, strong chest expanding. He holds his breath for a few seconds before exhaling. The wait increases Vivienne's nerves and impatience, and she's about ready to snap when-

"I'm having a Selection."

...

 _There goes a new and better life._

Bitterness rises in her throat, and her face almost contorts into anger, but she catches herself and makes it fall into shock instead. Lucas had to believe she was losing her one and only love, not her money sign. "But…" She trailed off, desperate for the right words, but finding none. How could she express sadness when she could only feel rage? _Think about sad things,_ she thought, an acting skill she had picked up when she was ten. Thinking of a sad memory could change a person's joyful demeanor into one containing depressed and disturbed feelings. She chose to think of the poor maid the Head Maid had dunked, imagining the burns and peeling skin the girl would have to deal with...

It worked. Tears sprung into her eyes, and Lucas hastily wiped them away, kissing each spot below her eye where a tear had leaked out. As she was brought back to the present, tears almost instantly vanished. She couldn't help but think of all the things she could've had but now would never because some _idiot_ wanted to screw with her happiness. Her plan had exploded like New Asia, and Lucas had a strong chance of meeting a girl he loved more than Vivienne, and that absolutely couldn't happen as long as Vivienne had a say in the matter. Lucas was not allowed to realize he didn't love her until she had a fancy diamond ring on her finger. She didn't care if he didn't love her after that- she'd still be married to him. Viv knew how much Lucas disagreed with divorce; one time he suggested to Vivienne that he would make it illegal when he became King. She just needed to get a proposal out of him, and Vivienne thought that after two years of a healthy and romantic relationship, he would've popped down on one knee by now. And she knew why he couldn't, but now...

"Lucas, I know what you can do!" She said excitedly, smiling at her brilliantly simple idea that just worked out wonderfully in her favor. She grabbed his hands again, entwining their fingers together. "Marry me! The whole Selection would be called off and we'd be together and not have to meet in secret and we could even-"

"I don't think you get it, Viv. This is a secret relationship, and it's secret for a reason," his cold tone cut her joyous one off. "Could you imagine the tabloids? The press would be all over me falling for the maid who washes my clothes! They'd wonder what goes on in the Palace that they don't know about. What kind of other secrets are the Royals keeping? Can we trust the Royals to focus on the war? Or are they too busy smacking lips with a poor six? People would riot, attacks would be more common, our allies wouldn't respect us and our enemies wouldn't fear us. We'd be a laughing stock for the entire world!" He shook his head in frustration at her.

Vivienne flinched, actually hurt by his words. They reminded her again of how worthless the country thought of her. "And I guess reputation comes before love, right? Because the world knowing I'm with you is more important than our happiness," she responded, glaring at the Royal looming over her. She let go of his hands and turned away, trying to make her anger deflate before it caused her more trouble.

"I'm trying to fix this!" He insisted, grabbing her shoulder.

"How?" She snapped, spinning around and sticking her chin up at him. All calming habits she had were forgotten as she let red cloud her vision. "And even if you do, what happens then? We have a secret marriage? Have secret children? The country needs a Queen! It needs heirs to rule after you!"

"Do you honestly think a _maid_ would be a suitable Queen?" He responded lowly, nose twitching in carefully contained rage. Vivienne felt something in her snap as the deadly trio of Hurt, Anger, and Distress consumed her. She felt Hurt aching in her heart as it thumped heavily inside of her. Anger stirred in her stomach as it built from deep within her core. Distress swirled inside her head as doubtful thoughts questioned her. The emotions grew and grew until the clashed into each other and all of a sudden, Vivienne's body moved on its own accord. She swung her hand back and slapped him on the cheek- _hard_. So hard that Lucas, a good 200 plus pound muscular man, stumbled to his right, both hands clutching his left cheek. His face was scrunched in pain and shock, and Vivienne looked down at her hand in wonder. Had she really just slapped the Prince's face?

She gasped in the realization of what she'd done as guilt washed over her. She glanced back over to Prince Lucas to see him stonily glaring at her, hands clenched at his sides. Viv could see the outline of her hand stamped on his face as his cheek began to swell. Even in the dim moonlight the harsh red color was noticeable.

Eyes widening, she rushed over to Lucas, reaching one hand up to his wound. "Oh Lucas-" she began, an apology ready on her tongue.

Lucas grabbed her wrist before she could touch him. "It's Your Majesty to you," he hissed at her, swinging her arm down forcefully. "Don't bother coming back here again. You won't see anything but that moon-" he pointed above their heads at the hole in the green glass, "-and the memories you'll have of me," Lucas said. He pushed by Viv, reaching out for the old door handle and yanking it so roughly the door popped off the top hinge. He stopped in the doorway and turned around to face her, one hand on the door. His voice was barely audible, but Vivienne could hear him in the still autumn night.

"Goodbye Vivienne."

The two words he always said to her at the end of their meetings, when it was getting late enough for Viv's parents to start getting suspicious. Before they held hope and a promise of seeing her again, but now they contained a finality of their last meeting.

Viv felt herself fall apart. All she had worked for, everything she had planned, had been completely shot within fifteen minutes. She felt the numbness set in as she realized there would be no ring, no white dress, no happy ending, for her anyway. Ethan would also suffer, never getting the freedom he deserved, like Vivienne. She cleared her thick throat as hot and heavy tears swam down her cheeks and painted the cement before quickly fading.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty," she croaked, voice cracking. She let the tears run freely now, and streaks of wetness cleaned her red face. Her lips disappeared inside her mouth in an attempt to stifle a sob, but the strangled cry still escaped her. Nostrils flared as her nose leaked almost as much as her eyes did. Short tendrils of hair that had fallen out of the bun were plastered to her face as the tears acted like glue.

Viv let her head hang back so that she was staring at the glass roof. The paneling was patchy with dark and light greens, and above her was the hole that Lucas had thrown a rock through to create. The memory form two years ago came rushing back to her.

 _"What?" Lucas asked, noticing the distaste in Viv's face._

 _"Nothing, it's just…" Something seemed off about secret meetings in a closed and broken down greenhouse. It was dark and dank and smelled of rotten plants. "I'm a little…claustrophobic," she lied, wanting Lucas to agree and pick a better spot. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully with his hands on his hips. Grinning at her, he said, "I know how to fix that."_

 _She sighed. For the short time she had known him, she found out a lot of things about Prince Lucas. One of them was that he was a complete problem solver. He couldn't stand to let anything stay unfixed. Sometimes, such as now, Vivienne was extremely annoyed by his constant attempts to make something better instead of get something better._

 _Viv watched with arms folded across her chest as Lucas took a rock from the ground and held it up, examining it. He tossed it between his hands a few times, feeling its weight, before bringing his arm back and launching the rock up towards the glass. In the quiet of the night, the shattering of the glass screamed in Viv's ears, and she was surprised when the guards hadn't come to investigate the noise._

 _Looking up, Viv noticed the gaping hole in the roof. It was about five feet in diameter, but it let moonlight flood in. The emptiness of the greenhouse seemed to become filled with the light, and Viv found it romantic. It was perfect._

 _She turned to Lucas. "Better," she said, walking over to him. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him. "Much better," she whispered into his mouth._

The sound of the door clicking startled Vivienne out of her memory. She didn't notice that Prince Lucas was gone, the door crookedly closed. She knew that he would be bothered by the breakup for days, maybe weeks, but his life would go on and he'd have the perfect chance to find a girl a million times better than Vivienne in a month or two. As for her, life would remain the same, with everlasting work and a changeless routine. One thing would be left behind, and it hurt Vivienne as she could already feel the emptiness from where it filled her heart.

Not love.

Hope.

 **Well, there it is! The end of Vivienne and Lucas' relationship…right? I don't know, we'll see! Review and please submit girls! Thank you all for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Okay, so I've got one last filler chapter after this and then onto the Selection! Here is another character I've introduced. He brings a little bit of darkness into the story, but no good story is all sunshine and lollipops. I still have spots open! Please submit! Maximum is two, so if you've only given one you can still post another.**

 **So, without further ado, enjoy!**

Prince James Frazier couldn't believe his eyes, but the tape didn't lie. While collecting film for the horror movie he was creating, James had been to every single creepy place the palace could possibly provide. There wasn't much besides dark closets and poorly lit bathrooms. Even the attic and basement, where all the old and banged up furnishings were stored, were organized and completely inappropriate for the suspenseful feeling that all horror movie scenes were supposed to have. He couldn't use any of the footage; even if he shook the camera or tinkered with the lights or added scary music, everything he caught on tape seemed unfitting and completely _not_ scary. He was so close to just giving up and sticking with documentaries when his brilliant idea popped into his mind: the abandoned greenhouse! During the day it was spooky, but at night...

James couldn't believe how long it took him to remember it. Of course, he hadn't been inside of it since he was seven- when it was shut down- but he should've thought of the place sooner. It had been a play place for him and big brother Lucas when they were young and innocent, dashing around pots and soaking each other with the big green hose that always seemed to be leaking. They sometimes pretended the hose was a snake and the two of them were notorious hunters of Illea, always catching the latest dangerous beast.

He smiled fondly at the memories, but it soon turned into a deep frown as the video played again in front of him. He really had stumbled upon something horrific, and it was enough to make him want to vomit and break his brother's bones. His stupidity was incredibly immense and James couldn't understand how thoughtless Lucas was at twenty-one years old. He was a grown man, for goodness sakes! Illea didn't need a King who chose women when he felt lonely, but an independent man that can withstand being away from loved ones for months on end. Lucas was too dependent, too much of a people person to fit that role.

But James knew, deep in his heart, _he_ should be Illea's next King, not Lucas. He was charming and cunning, intelligent and polite, all traits the brothers shared but were more prominent in James. The eighteen year old could just imagine what Illea could become if he became King; he would make sure that everyone had their place in society and that every single person contributed to the country. If he was King, he'd make sure every eight had a job, so there would essentially be no Caste Eight. He would officially end the everlasting war with New Asia; James knew of the nuclear bomb Illea's best engineers and chemists were building through his swift yet meticulous hacking in the Advisor's laptops. They were far too careless inside the palace, leaving their laptops in their rooms when they left for dinner or breakfast, and James had created copy keys for every room in the palace, so breaking in was never a problem. The guards always tried to stop him, which James found _very_ annoying, but he had power and authority over them, so a few threats and the mention of his title as Prince gained him the access he desired.

Once inside the room, he set his timer for five minutes to be in and out. He had flash drives he used to upload the documents and videos, sift through a few emails, and check out if the Advisor was up to anything fishy. All of them were clean, but a few had some very...interesting choices in entertainment. It was always good to collect blackmail on each of them if he ever needed them on his side. They were all too vain and self-conscious, so James knew they would rather save themselves from humiliation than say "no" to an eighteen year old mastermind's plan.

Speaking of his plan, James was suddenly very grateful Lucas had screwed himself so badly; the evidence gave James spectacular blackmail to help further his wonderful and elaborate scheme. He would do anything to obtain the role of King, and James was perfectly fine with the whole world bashing on Lucas should he be revealed as the senseless boy he was. Besides, Lucas never seemed to care much about his little brother nowadays. His own father, King Carlisle Frazier, didn't seem to mind James' antics and mischief. It was all about Lucas and his preparation to become King. James felt so incredibly lonely and all he wanted was attention, but James knew he would never go as far as having a _maid_ fill his emptiness. James was dumbfounded as to trying to find reason in his brother's odd actions. Why would Lucas want a maid's attention? He had the whole of Illea to fawn over him. As for girls, the Royals were always involved in balls and parties with other countries, and Lucas always had girls asking to dance with him. He should've been satisfied. There was no reason for him not to be. If any one of the Royals deserved to feel abandoned or unsatisfied, it should've been James. Not King Carlisle, who seemed to only be able to pity himself since Queen Lia died, and certainly not Prince Lucas, the all of the young women of Illea absolutely adored and swooned for. Sometimes, James couldn't believe how self-absorbed his family truly was.

Staring at the incriminating evidence that danced on the bright screen in the dark room he had devoted to editing film, James tried to distinguish any noticeable features of the maid Lucas was with. He saw she had an ugly shade of orange hair and was grossly muscular, seemingly more masculine than feminine. She didn't have the soft curves or fat that made women more attractive to James, but then again, he couldn't put anything past Lucas, even his taste in women. He could see she was maybe 5'7, a little on the short side for Lucas' tall height. Even on her tip toes she had to tilt her head far back to reach his lips, and he had to bend over to meet them. James was disgusted with himself for being so infatuated with studying the film, but it was part of who he was. He had to analyze everything before deciding on a course of action. In this case, James was trying to see if Lucas actually cared about the maid through his body posture. He was fully turned towards her and had his arms wrapped tight around her body, a loving gesture James had observed multiple times in the romance movies he had seen, and he decided that Lucas did have deep feelings for the girl. He wasn't too fond of romantic movies, but he thought that it was imperative he knew about each and every genre there was. How could he truly appreciate cinematography if he didn't experience everything it had developed and evolved? He was an aspiring director, hoping to leave his own legacy in the film world. He could just see Illea loving him for not only being a great and responsible King, but also and artistic and thoughtful director. The only thing James needed now was the blessing from his father.

Only, the blessing was given to the eldest child.

Which meant Lucas either had to die or be revoked of his title. Obviously James couldn't fulfill the first option; too many people would have to be involved and when multiple assets are brought in, there is always a growing chance someone will tattle. So that left James with the other option, and the only way Lucas' title could be revoked was from their father. This was where things got a little tricky. King Carlisle had always favored Prince Lucas over James. At first James thought it was because he was the eldest, but now he knew it was because Lucas reminded his father so much of his dead wife. James was much like Carlisle; they both wanted control and always went with their heart over their head. Lucas and Queen Lia shared the qualities of self-control and problem-fixing.

The only way James could get his father to revoke his most beloved child's rightful title was if it was to save him, whether from embarrassment or death, James wasn't completely sure yet. The threat of death, as explained above, was much more risky. He didn't know how far or drastic he'd have to take his plan, though. James tried to decide if the death of his brother would sadden him or not, but he already had a black and blue heart from the loneliness and the multiple rejections his father and brother had bruised him with, so James wasn't sure he would completely mind the eternal absence of his blood brother. He was positive, from all the movies he had seen, that a broken family was supposed to mend from a tragedy together, but it had seemed that Carlisle and Lucas had recovered with each other while James had been left to cope by himself. At such a young age- only eight when Queen Lia passed- James had had many years for fury to build in his heart and create a monster inside of him. Outside he may have appeared cool, calm, and collected, but on the inside he was a roaring tyrant, ready to destroy any obstacle that stood in his path.

It was how he protected his cracking heart from shattering; the relentless planning of his revenge and letting anger smother his conscious kept him from falling into depression. The anger gave him life, the dangerous fire burning though his veins and letting it consume his brain until he _was_ fire. Could anything extinguish this agonizing flame? James wouldn't care if something could; he had wanted the Crown and Throne for far too long for anything to stop him. It was too late for apologies and bribery- no, they had missed that chance ten years ago. Now it was James' turn in the spotlight, and they would definitely remember who he was. No longer was he "that kid" or the "one in the corner"; no, he would no longer be a nameless being. He was Prince James, future King.

His heart could've burst in excitement hearing that last sentence. _Prince James, future King._ It felt so right, so fitting. He could imagine Illea rejoicing his names and he could see the parties, with the alcohol and the beauties and the gifts- all for him, of course- and the pure joy his country would feel all because _he_ was their wonderful King, not Lucas. He could just picture the pathetic despair written all over Lucas' face as he watched his forgotten little brother rise to fame and glory as he sunk down into nothingness.

Nothing would please James more than that day.

Lucas would feel James' hurt. He would cry and cry and cry and wonder why, and James would remind him each day that it was _his_ fault. It was _Lucas'_ fault for letting his little brother suffer from grief alone. Lucas was supposed to take care of him. Lucas was supposed to be his role-model. Lucas was supposed to be guidance in times of need. But where was he?

Enjoying himself with all the gifts from Illea- for their _poor future King_ , who had endured the same traumatic loss James had.

And Carlisle would understand the feeling of regret. He would surely feel guilt for forgetting about his other son. Carlisle would fade into an old, crazy man as he would try to mend his ways. James had devious plans set aside for his father, none that were finished or polished, but dark ideas that had passed through the determination of it being logical or not. Many terrible occurrences would befall upon his father, and a grim smile spread across the eighteen year old's face as each option flashed across his vision.

A knock appeared at the door, startling James from his thoughts. Who dared disturb him in his peaceful place? Who was actually giving him attention?

He paused the still replaying tape and closed out of the computer. He yanked the door back to peer into the hallway. Nobody stood in front of him. He sighed in sadness. No, of course nobody was there. He was simply imagining someone actually cared for his presence. He was about to turn and close the door when he noticed a newspaper on the soft carpet in front of the door.

Picking it up, James wondered who bothered to give him a newspaper. He never read them and all the delivery maids knew that; everything in them seemed so stupid and needless, always about little things and nothing about the big things like New Asia or Illea's lack of a good ruler. But nonetheless, James read the headline. The words danced before him in it's fancy font. In disbelief he read and reread each word, hoping his mind wasn't processing them right. Realization crashed into him before a light bulb blinked in his head. A wide smile stretched his cheeks wide and he bounced a little in excitement as he turned and closed the door, retreating back into his sacred place.

The possibilities of sabotage and humiliation seemed endless now. Prince Lucas would never survive this. No, not if James could help it. He let the newspaper drop on his desk as he reopened the tape and watched it play again, the beauty of it now appreciated as he knew how he could use it.

James laughed out loud as he read the headline again. Swirling letters in black ink displayed _**Another Selection: Prince Lucas Looking for Love**_. James shook his head at the irony; Lucas had already found love. He realized he held a secret that nobody else knew, and he planned to exploit it in the most painful fashion possible. Poor Prince Lucas and his lover. They would have to split apart for a little bit if they didn't want to be caught...

But the country wouldn't know that.

He would the tape to not just Illea, but the world. He would make his brother such an irresponsible fool Carlisle would have no choice but to take his son's title of King away, thus making James the rightful ruler. The younger brother was giddy. He felt impatient for the time to come when he would spread the tape in every place there was a television, but he knew when that day would come, and he had to wait.

After all, the best part in a movie is the twisted ending.

 **So I give to you Prince James Frazier. Lots more to come from him. Lots. He is just as important as Vivienne and I can't wait to show you how they come into play. Please review! And please submit!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello hello! So this is the last "Filler Filler" chapter before we really begin to (finally) get into the Selection. I HAVE THREE SPOTS LEFT. They are open to anyone, even if you've already submitted two. BUT, it still must be PM. Everyone's reviews are awesome! Thank you all. A lot of them really make my day :D**

 **Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

Lucas stared hard at the intricately painted ceiling, the details not escaping his careful eye. He lay flat on the cool tile in one of the useless extra rooms in the massive palace, but this one was one of Lucas' favorites.The color scheme (as each room had one) was different shades of blue, and the painting Lucas was looking at was of a pair of white swans intertwined in a glittering deep grayish blue lake. The sky was dark and the bright moon illuminated the swans, who had their heads bowed together, creating a perfect heart.

Lucas found this particular painting stunning, but it meant so much more to him than most knew. He felt the colors blur together as the memories came back to him.

 _"Mama!" a small Lucas cried, head swiveling left to right, searching for the sparkling crown and complicated updo among the crowd of black tuxedos. Six body guards surrounded him as he tried to peek between legs, desperate to see his mother's rich purple ball gown swaying as she walked._

 _Lucas was very frustrated, as all eight year olds get when they don't find what they want. He wanted his mama, and he wanted her_ now. _He didn't understand why he had to be caged by bodyguards while his mother roamed free. They were at a street market in Bralis_ **(AN: Brazil)** _, a country far south of Illea, on vacation. Queen Lia, an avid lover of art, was searching for rare pieces from exotic parts of the world. Braille was known for their classical and modern art sculptures, but Lia was looking more for the former._

 _Lucas sighed and pouted, kicking out his legs and stirring up the dry dirt as he walked. It was hot, he was tired, he was hungry, and he was alone. His father had fallen ill; nothing serious, but he didn't feel up to following his wife around and giving his opinion only to have it be ignored. Little James was deemed far too young and fragile to be taken on the trip, and Lucas was utterly bored without his playmate._

 _The streets were crowded with people, shopping at the various street vendors. Often times the bodyguards would have to stop in a tight street as the noisy crowd would not part, not even for the royalty. Lucas would think they would care, but the commoners talked in their different language and brushed up against the guards and Lia as if they were ordinary people. He wasn't sure he liked that, but his mother didn't seem to mind. Looking up, the little boy could see the large leaves of odd trees to his right and could hear the crashing of waves to his left._

 _Suddenly the boy heard an "ah!" in front of him and his guards suddenly stopped, making Lucas crash into their muscular legs. They began to move to the right of the street, shifting their bodies slowly so hardly any gaps were made. He stood on his tip toes, jumping up to try to see over the men's shoulders. He eventually gave up, sighing in exasperation._

 _Five minutes went by and nothing happened. He was drawing circles in the dirt when he heard his mother's voice talking softly._

 _"Gordon, let Lucas come here," she ordered, but her tone had no harshness in it. The biggest guard, who was standing in front of Lucas, walked forward a couple steps, allowing the young Prince to dash out of his "cage." The boy spun around, gazing at the world that was blocked from him. He saw the ocean and the beach and the hoards of people covering the golden sand. He heard the seagulls cawing as they circled above. He saw the different people with darker skin, crazy hair, interesting clothes. Everything seemed so foreign, so much more fun than Illea._

 _His mother calling him drew him away from his sightseeing. She stood by an unhealthily skinny young man with dark tanned skin. He had the beginnings of a beard and mustache growing and choppy thin black hair. His bony back was hunched and his thick eyebrows furrowed as he investigated his work._

 _Lucas wasn't really sure what it was the man was doing. An odd wooden contraption was set up and a rectangular white block stood on it. He had never seen a blank canvas before, and he had never painted before. The Royal Nurses were too afraid of the toxins and dangerous possibilities to let the heir to the throne play with paint. Anyway, Lucas found this new activity intriguing, and he went closer to Lia to see more. She was looking over the man's shoulder with a soft smile on her face, eyes wide and excited. Nobody in the streets seemed to notice the Royal Queen and Prince of Illea crowded around the street vendor. Even the man painting seemed to believe they were invisible._

 _"Come here, Lucas," his mother called, glancing away to look at him. He obeyed his mother and hugged her ballgown, peering up at the object._

 _It was beautiful, with vibrant greens and hot reds and sunny yellows. It was of the strange forest he had seen the leaves of trees of while he was locked inside the guards' "cage." But it was more in depth and showed many pictures at once; birds swooped near and far, down and up, right and left, and dark trees, hunched and sloped, gave an eerie feeling that sent chills up Lucas' spine. But nevertheless, the painting was intricate and absolutely stunning with its details and color._

 _"Mama, what is that?" Young Lucas asked, pointing at a bird with a long, bright yellow nose._

 _"That's a toucan," Lia answered, smiling at her son. "Do you like the painting?"_

 _"Yes, Mama," he said, nodding his head._

 _Lia nodded also, deep in thought. Her smile disappeared as her lips pursed. "Excuse me, young man," she said, touching the vendor's shoulder. "What is your name?"_

 _He didn't stop working when he said, "Los."_ _ **(AN: As in the end of the name "Car**_ _ **los**_ _ **")**_

 _"Well, Los, I would like to offer you a trade for your paintings," the Queen said, using her "business tone," as her advisor liked to call it. Queen Lia was just as involved in the economics of Illea as her husband, she was very well educated in the art of trade. She used this tone when she was proposing an idea or discussing business with her advisors._

 _Los didn't respond, but he set down his paintbrush slowly. Lia took this as a sign to proceed._

 _"I would like to offer you a lifetime of plenty in exchange for you in my palace as my painter."_

 _"What would this "lifetime of plenty" consist of?" He asked, looking over his shoulder to inspect the Queen and Prince. Lia held herself with confidence but not snobbish power. Her shoulders were back, hands clasped in front of her. She did not keep her nose up, and met Los' eyes evenly._

 _"Free food when you want it, a tax-free permanent residence, a family of maids and doctors and artists like you, and a fresh start. You can even bring your brothers and sisters and mother and father with you."_

 _"I have no family but Scruff," Los answered, nodding his head to a small terrier dog. It was missing its gray fur in patches, one ear half torn off and scars all across its muzzle. It looked as if it were in pain, lying on its side next to Los' chair. "I don't come without Scruff."_

 _"Scruff would be a wonderful addition. He can surely come with us," Lia said, smiling in delight. Los smiled too, crooked yellow teeth exposed for the first time in a long while._

When Los came back to Illea, he was amazed by the wonders of a real home. He made many friends and fell in love with a maid. He painted in almost every room of the Palace, listening to what Lia wanted and exceeding her expectations. Young Lucas liked to watch Los paint, and while Los painted he talked of Bralis and the people and forests and stories of himself and his life.

Scruff was happy, following his owner everywhere. The vets had treated him and he slowly grew his fur back. Of course the maids were frantic about his shedding fur, trailing the dog with vacuums. Lucas found it hilarious, watching them circle the Palace the whole day. The dog even seemed to enjoy their anxiety, wagging his tail and rolling around on the carpets.

Unfortunately, Los died of a foreign fever that the Illean doctors had no idea on how to treat. Scruff died soon after, too depressed to eat or drink.

The swan painting Lucas stared up at now was Los' last painting. It was painted shortly after Lia had died. Los was heavily saddened with his Queen's death; she had become very close with him, treating him as a brother instead of a worker. The painting was symbolic of the sweet love Lia and Carlisle shared, but the blue exuded the melancholy of her absence.

He missed the past very badly, back when the sun shined brighter and the world was happier. Back when there was no war and there was no death. Back when Lia was alive and the family only felt joy.

 _Back when I didn't know Vivienne,_ Lucas thought, bitterness filling him. He was so shocked and angered and- dare he say it- _hurt_ that his girlfriend had slapped him the night before. He honestly didn't know what it was that pushed her to that point, but now he didn't care. Or, he didn't _want_ to care. Lucas had truly loved Vivienne, with her tinkling laugh and delicate steps, even for her muscular frame. He knew she was not physically beautiful, but her personality and heart made her as a person incredibly attractive, and Lucas wasn't sure he would love anyone as much as he loved Viv.

In just eight weeks he'd have thirty-five girls living in his home, trying to win his already stolen heart. Lucas steeled himself. He was not Vivienne's anymore, nor was she his. He was going to forget her, move on with the Selection, try to find a Queen for the country. It didn't matter anymore what Lucas wanted; right now the country needed some excitement and hope and Lucas felt it was his responsibility to provide it. His father was in no condition whatsoever to lift the people's spirits, and his brother had been M.I.A. for the last ten years.

Lucas wondered about James now. His younger brother had practically hid himself away after Lia died, and the once strong relationship they shared was nonexistent now. He wondered whose fault it was. Was it his, for not trying hard enough to reach out and comfort James? Or was it James' fault, for hiding away and excluding himself from the world? He never had dinner with Carlisle or Lucas and he didn't come on trips to other countries anymore and never showed his face on the Report and he never-

Lucas stopped himself. He had done a lot of thinking, but now he needed to act. He wanted to fix his broken bond with his little brother. He missed his little playmate and he didn't really know who James was now. He saw his brother very little these days, but when he did, James was sulking around in the halls with a video camera. They didn't even acknowledge each other.

There were a lot of things Lucas needed to fix, but he really had no clue on how, and this irritated him. He wanted to repair what was no longer working, to find solutions to the problems. His father told him this was a great quality for a King, but failed to warn him that too much of a good thing can become bad.

When Lucas heard the bells and dongs from the bell towers and clocks, he realized it was three in the afternoon; he had spent six hours on a tile floor staring at a painting in an abandoned room. He was surprised he didn't hear the other bells and dongs that rang at twelve; they usually brought him out of his thoughts.

Groaning, Lucas got up and stretched, his muscles sore from the hard floor. Opening the locked doors, he stepped out and into the long hallway. Instantly men in suits and women in nice pantsuits approached him, bombarding him with questions.

"Would you like the girls' bedroom walls lavender or peach? I was thinking lighter-"

"We didn't want to disturb you-"

"Do you want the carpets to be redone? They look a little-"

"What food would you like to be served? I'm going to need a list-"

"New clothes are currently being made for you-"

Voices overlapping each other made Lucas' head swim. He didn't realize that preparing for a Selection would be so chaotic and unorganized.

"Stop!" He yelled over them, using his "deep" voice. He didn't like to use it a lot, because it made him feel like he seemed controlling and unfeeling, trampling over other people. He preferred to stay humble and calm, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't have a bunch of patience at that moment. "Please," he said, exasperated. "Please, on at a time, from left to right. Go," he ordered, looking at a tiny older woman in a black and purple pantsuit.

As Lucas answered every question his planners had-which seemed endless-he realized he wasn't quite ready to face the reality of finding love in someone other than the orange-headed maid that washed his clothes. But what would help him as he struggled to move on? He couldn't seek counsel in a person for obvious reasons; people loved to gossip about other people, and somehow secrets always slipped out. Lucas felt alone, with no one he could share his feelings with.

"Prince Lucas," an older man said, snapping the Prince back into reality. The planners had all left, discussing and arguing with each other about what they think would be best as they slowly made their way down the hall.

"Yes?"

"The Report tomorrow will be when you announce your Selection," the gray haired man said. "You need a speech and I'm here to help you write it. Do you want anything specific to be said?"

Lucas pondered this for a while before answering. He was very good with words and could've probably winged it the next day, but he knew that was irresponsible and childish. He wanted every girl in Illea to prepare themselves for what they were getting into. The broken-hearted man almost felt bad for them, for the girls that would actually want to love him and not his title and throne. They didn't know why he would have a hard time opening up to them and reciprocating affection. He knew some would give up, others would push, and the rest would confusedly try to help.

Lucas suddenly realized what he needed, how this Selection would actually be good for him instead of painful. He knew exactly what he was looking for now, no longer feeling blind and lost and hopeless. Right then, Lucas was positive that there was a girl out there that could mend his heart and erase pain of his past and memories. In this case, it was Lucas that needed to be fixed, and this time someone else would be the fixer.

"I want every girl in Illea to know that I am looking for a specific type. A girl that may not be unique or special to others, but has a certain ability, you could say, that I need."

The old man looked puzzled, confused by Lucas' lack of description. He wrote it down anyway, waiting for more to be said. As Lucas thought about it more, he felt more sure of himself, more excited for this Selection, because it was what he needed to move on from Vivienne and the hurt that was associated with her. He smiled at the man, who began to look a little uncertain, and said,

"I am looking for a girl that can fix what is broken."

The look of concern and bewilderment on the man's face was absolutely priceless.

 **So we finally have the perspective of Lucas! Yay! Let me know what you think! Reviews actually really help me, even if it is just saying "good job" or "update soon." REMEMBER, THREE SPOTS STILL OPEN TO ANYONE AS LONG AS IT'S PMd. Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm still alive, don't worry. Honestly guys, if you guys are still reading this, I'm really sorry. I had life throw me some curveballs I wasn't expecting and I didn't have time to write. At all. But I am not quitting this story. Updates will probably be spaced out, though, so please be aware of that. Thank you all! You guys have been awesome.**

The door slid open effortlessly as James slipped into the dark room. He slithered around at the back of the wall, turning his night vision glasses on. Specially crafted by James himself, they were thin enough to look like regular glasses but had the ability to switch into what he called Night Mode by pressing a small button on the right side of the frame. In dark areas objects would look as if a flashlight were pointed on them without the beam from the light of a flashlight being seen from anyone but the wearer of the glasses. James didn't have to worry much about time; he had already shut the security off in this room. He knew nobody would come into this room anytime soon anyway; he'd been watching the camera feed for three days and had only seen one person enter: Carlisle.

The Selected girls had been picked just five days ago, and, contrary to popular rumors, the Selection truly was a lottery. But James was about to make it a very tricky game where he was the manipulator, the man in charge.

The pristine white envelopes sat on top of elegant gold columns that stretched high enough to about James' waist. They were evenly spaced in a wide, half-moon circle. Each letter had a stamp of the Province it was of, the Province's name in fancy letters, and the form of the Selected inside. James lets his gaze travel sideways and, unsurprised, noticed multiple buckets of envelopes lined up in an orderly fashion with the name of the Province painted in neat print. Thousands of envelopes sat untouched in the dark corner, and James realized they would all probably be burned.

Drawing his thoughts back to the task at hand, he reached out to grab one with the stamp of a salmon: _Lakedon_. The prince rolled his eyes. Laden was a Province big on fishing and ecosystems and being frugal and all that crap James had no time for. Most of them were animal-rights activists who really bothered the young man; they liked to protest (peacefully, of course) practically every week right outside the palace gates. _Loudly_. Shouting, chants, dance routines, parodies of popular songs, James had seen it all and he knew that if _he_ were hosting a Selection, the Lakedon girl would most likely be gone before the end of the first week. But James didn't disregard this girl: with Lucas' past choice in women, he wouldn't put it past his brother to go for a nature hippie.

Setting the Lakedon envelope back, he picked up the one on the next column. The stamp was one of an iron pick-axe, and the Province name came easily to James: _Zuni._ Zuni-that was a common name in the palace, too, but this one was slightly less frustrating. Zuni was an important Province economically because of their ruby mining. James had seen the history in files he had stolen: the discovery of ruby made people go insane, flocking to the relatively small area to mine the precious jewel. However, King Tristan, an old, old, _old_ King, ordered that the only ones allowed to mine for the ruby found in Zuni were the people appointed by him. Obviously this caused an uproar, but James really forgot about the rest. It was history, unimportant stuff about stupid, long ago events. He hated learning about how "This Province was founded in..." and "That Province had the most..." It absolutely bored James out of his mind. Why did he have to know the details? Couldn't he just get a summary, like on the back of a book?

Anyway, Zuni was still overpopulated because King Tristan didn't order the non-Zunis to leave, but people were gradually be moved into less populated Provinces like Panama and Hansport, whose identifying stamps were wheat stalks and a cow respectively. They were the main farmers of Illea, providing ninety-five percent of the country's wheat and beef products. As these Provinces came to mind, James looked over at their envelopes, set squarely on their columns, which were next to each other. He stalked over and grasped the smooth gold surface of the Hansport column as the snake of Fear slowly slid and rippled deep in his stomach and constricted his heart.

Could he do this? If he got caught...

James shook it off. He wouldn't get caught, and since he wouldn't get caught, he could only prosper from this decision. Tough ones had to be made and James certainly didn't mind them as much as Lucas. _What a wimp,_ he thought, his face coiling into a disgusted scowl as his brother's face popped up like a beacon in his thoughts. Courage renewed with fury, James opened the Hansport envelope, silently gasping as it opened with a loud, crisp _pop_. Sliding the ti-folded paper out of the envelope, he inspected the form. He skimmed over the girl's picture, noting she wasn't half-bad in looks. He tilted his head right, then left, over and over again, determining if this would be the form that James would play with. After reading the whole form, he folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. She had a chance, though slim, but it was enough for James to lick the envelope sleeve and shut it back up.

He strutted around the columns with his hands locked behind his back as he peered down at each envelope when he passed by. _Tammins, Hundson, Ottaro_... He had a feeling, a gut instinct, that these girls would be somewhat competitive. They came from respectable Provinces anyways. He liked to call it his sixth sense, a complex part of his brain somehow knowing things without them being revealed to him. Of course, he was sometimes wrong...

 _Likely, Waverly, Paloma, Kent_ -James froze. He got a bad itch at _Paloma_ , like his sixth sense was twitching and stirring up an intense desire to investigate. Walking back a few steps, he gazed suspiciously down at the envelope with perfectly even letters flowing into each other a river's streams that trickled into each other so fluidly. It was just one Province out of thirty-five. What set this one apart?

He stared hard at the envelope for a few seconds before tearing it open and looking eagerly at the girl's form. Much to James' surprise, she seemed...normal. Disappointed in his findings, he set it back. Though she was common, James had a strong intuition she would go far in the competition. He would remember the Paloma girl, for sure, but he didn't feel like it was for a good reason.

Shaking his head, James stalked off and began to open every envelope to look at each Selected's form. _Allens, Lakedon, Bonita, Whites_ -nothing special. The girls all seemed worthy of their positions. _St. George, Midston, Dominica,_ and _Atlin_ were all the same. James growled in frustration; his plan was exploding in front of him. The girls-even if chosen by random-all seemed compatible in some way with Lucas, or so James thought. He was nearing the final columns, and he hadn't found a single girl he could have fun with in his game. She had to be completely unreliable to Lucas, a girl Lucas wouldn't even give two glances to. Sighing, he swiped one off its column, caring less and less about looking at the name of the Province, and looked inside.

The form was...crinkled. Like it had been balled up then flattened out. Lucas was a total neat freak; James remembered when Lucas would get angry with James as kids because he left his toys everywhere. The girl wasn't even looking at the camera, but instead smiling at the ground. Lucas was a stickler for eye contact. He would always win staring contests as kids, and he could stare down anyone in a negotiation. The handwriting was messy and almost unreadable, letters all over the place and hardly forming words. Lucas was a terrible reader anyway (well, compared to James), he wouldn't want to need a magnifying glass to translate scribble into English. Finally he noticed the most important flaw and he knew instantly this girl was it. She would be the vital key in this game, and she rested in James' hands now. Bringing the girl's form and envelope with him, James wandered back over to the buckets and looked for the one labeled with the girl's province. There were at least ten buckets for her province, and James wanded his finger over each bin until he plucked one envelope form the top of one.

Opening, he smiled deviously; this girl was definitely going to go far, he knew it, he _felt_ it. Laughing giddily, he tossed to former Selected's envelope into one of the buckets and brought the new one over to its Province's gold column. Humming a well known song he liked, he carefully placed the envelope where it belonged and waltzed away, turning off and taking off his night glasses. He shoved them carelessly into a pocket and danced (very terribly) out of the dark and silent room.

Unfortunately, James was so caught up in his success he failed to realize how much time had passed; he had set his timer for twenty minutes, expecting an easy swap, but he had been in the Selecting Room for over an hour. His timer must've broken or malfunctioned, yet all this he did not know. James' very meticulously planned schedule was extremely compromised by this time jump; soldiers were making their rounds and worse-Lucas had just finished a meeting across the hall. James was still dancing horrendously and humming a song when he was suddenly interrupted by a deep cough from behind him. Many curse words flashing through his mind, he froze mid-dance with the song caught in a knot in his throat. Eyes wide with surprise and cheeks on fire with embarrassment, he winced as he recognized the voice immediately.

"James, what in the name of Illea are you doing?"

James turned to face his brother, attempting and innocent expression with a sheepish smile. His gaze flashed to his watch, which was still flashing **20:00**. He hadn't even started the timer. More curse words flooded his brain as his innocent look became more of a grimace. He laughed nervously and said, "Lucas. Didn't see you there."

"Yes, I can tell. You're usually not so...expressive with your movements." James sighed in annoyance. Sometimes he really hated his brother's uptightness and formal words. Not that he didn't hate anything else, but his elaborate word choice and complex sentence structure were _so old_. It didn't even sound remotely modern, and Lucas was only twenty-one; if that's how James was expected to act when he turned that old, he was definitely going to break that etiquette rule. Along with many, many others; James didn't find much importance in etiquette standards. To him, etiquette was all about how to beat around the bush, and James tended to be more blunt and direct.

As James looked at his brother now, he could sense his brother's discomfort. Lucas was obviously unsure on how to converse with his only brother with whom he had abandoned almost all contact. Lucas' shoulders were hunched, back straight, form rigid. His jaw was locked and all the while he clenched and unclenched his hands, which rested by his side.

James smoothly responded, "Well, you don't see me enough to know that." A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he saw Lucas blink in shock and wince with hurt. He was real tempted to spout an insult like, _Ouch, brother. Need some ice for that burn?_ or _Gee, that was a bad explosion. Did I drop the bomb on you too early?_ but he held his tongue. He would remain at least somewhat nice for now; it was imperative his beautiful plan came as a shock, just like in the good horror movies. Nobody sees it coming until it's there and the reaction of _Oh!_ or _Ah!_ is automatic. Here, James wanted Lucas to feel completely betrayed and stupid for his obliviousness-and, of course, shocked-and James knew Lucas was terrible at hiding his shock and the emotions that came with it.

Recovering from James' statement, Lucas redirected the conversation: "What were you doing in the Selecting Room?"

James was prepared for this. "I went into the wrong door. I was looking for the room with the big blue sofa and with the painting of the beach-you know, the one Los made?-to take a nap in. You know the room?"

"...Yes, it's through that door," he said, turning and pointing is finger on the other side of the hallway. James smiled and nodded.

"Ah I see. Well, thanks Lucas. I'll just be going now," he smiled at his brother and was walking past him with Lucas grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," he said, and James walked back to face his brother, waiting for a non-sense question about politics or food production or some crap James didn't care much about at that moment. "James, I have a marvelous idea. Would you care to entertain it?" James felt every last drip of happiness drain from his veins and leech into Lucas'.

"Sure..." he drawled suspiciously. "What's your idea?"

"How about we have a classic brother's night, to refresh our kinship bond and to reminisce in old memories as we journey to create new ones?" If Lucas didn't stop talking like one of those snobbish Brits from New Britainia, James was going to slap him.

But...this could be good for James' plan. Flashing a million-dollar smile towards Lucas, he answered, "Sure Lucas. But I've got one condition, okay?" James held up one finger next to his face as he waited for Lucas' response.

Lucas looked absolutely elated at not being rejected and quickly replied, "Of course!"

James gazed at his brother seriously and told him, "You have to stop talking like I'm the King of Italy."

...

There was a moment of silence as the brothers stared at each other before Lucas began laughing-really, really laughing-while James half-heartedly laughed along. The devious man honestly didn't find the statement funny as he was being truthful, but getting close to his brother again was part of his sub-plan, and if that meant James had to pretend to be Lucas' little pet, James would live with it.

After all, they do say keep your friends close and your enemies closer for a reason.

 _Meanwhile_ (PoV shift)

Dull eyes watched from behind the curtain as the brothers laughed at a humorless joke. Vivienne kept her eye on the Royals as they walked together, all smiles and laughs as she found herself wishing she could take James' place. Regret flooded into her like a tsunami, and she closed her eyes as she could feel herself become physically ill. She turned and bumped her head on the large glass window and sighed, leaning against the massive pane that had taken forever to clean. The girl was ashamed of slapping the prince-her one escape-and would do anything to turn back time to change her actions.

She had screwed herself over.

Not only that, but she had screwed her _family_ over. She didn't tell them what had happened to her or her plan, but when she had come home that night she had cried so long and hard she fell into a seemingly endless series of vomit fits. Her parents tried their best to draw what was wrong out of her, but if Vivienne was anything, she was stubborn.

Her parents had reported her illness the next day to ask for Permitted Absence, saying their daughter was depressed and unhappy with her occupation. The Head Maids had gathered in a meeting and decided to promote Vivienne (after how long she had waited, all it took was some tears and throw up) to be a cleaning maid, Vivienne's mother's occupation. They had found the orange-haired girl's work tiring yet fulfilling, and saw that she was ready to move on to a different job where her work ethic and handiwork could be used just as well. Not that cleaning windows was all that hard, but who was she to complain?

Little brother Ethan seemed to be getting worse; he was becoming more violent and loud and _annoying_. As much as Vivienne loved Ethan-and she would do anything for him-she couldn't think clearly or speak a coherent sentence while in the family's tiny compartment. He wailed non-stop and punched everything, then would cry more because he had hurt himself from punching an object so hard. She couldn't stand it, watching her little brother deteriorate more and more instead of improving.

Opening her eyes, Vivienne stared outside as she watched the gardeners trim the bush and weed the plants while small drops of rain fell from the stormy gray clouds above. Her gaze followed the orange and red and brown leaves as they were piled into heaps and couldn't help but think, _Ethan would probably_ _like fall_. However, the little blonde boy would never experience the fun of jumping into piles of leaves, and the thought of this ignited a spark of guilt that gnawed on Vivienne's heart.

Finally, she snapped out of her pity party. It had been a few weeks since Vivienne and Lucas' relationship had ended, and, though her heart hadn't healed yet, she began to plot a new idea. This time around, Vivienne was experienced; she knew what she'd have to do to succeed. It was a new plan, Plan B, and this time Vivienne would win.

She watched her breath fog the newly cleaned glass.

Another leaf fell.

Sweep,

rake,

pile into a heap.

The cycle began again.

But this time, she was out for Prince James' heart.

The shadow of her grin reflected off the glass,

smile wider than a Chesire cat's

and teeth sharper than shark teeth.

Playing nice was no longer part of the game.

 **New plots, new plans, and this story is about to get real complex. I cannot say enough how sorry I am for my absence, but when life happens, sometimes other priorities have to be put on the back burner. I would like to clarify that I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY. Nope. I refuse to quit. I love writing and I'm excited for this story, so I am not leaving. Please review and tell me how you feel! I appreciate it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I cannot apologize enough for how long this took to post. Quite a few things happened. I got a concussion, got sick, found out my grandpa possibly has cancer, had relatives visit, and when I did type this out on DocX, when I tried to save it it deleted my rough. Yea, yikes. But it's here now! Also, I have a Pinterest account under my username (thathuman) where I have the girls' appearances and dresses from this and the next chapter. Go check it out, see the competition.**

 **Also, REALLY IMPORTANT:** ** _If your girl is not mentioned it does not mean she isn't important._** **And if she is, it doesn't mean she's important either.**

 **Without further ado, please enjoy!**

Lucas was sick the day the Selected were announced on the Report.

It wasn't a mild cough or cold or fever; a terrible virus that caused the Prince to vomit continuously and have a dangerously high fever had decided to envelope Lucas and prevent him from doing his Royal duties. Sicker than a dog, Lucas laid in bed and drowsily watched as Jackson, the head Interviewer and Reporter for Illea, announced each Province's Selected. The bachelor felt guilt settle deep in his gut; it was him who should have been confidently standing at the grand podium and calling out each name with pride and joy, knowing that one of these girls would become his wife one day. And there should've been a nervous thrill, a pin-pricking electric sensation coursing wildly throughout his whole body as he looked up at each pretty face on the screen and quietly questioned if she'd be his One.

Unfortunately, life has a sick twist of cruelty.

Instead of a nervous thrill, Lucas had a nervous tremor as he anxiously waited for stomach acid to rise yet again. He had gotten food poisoning from raw sushi he had had for lunch and not even five hours later was in a treacherous condition of clamminess, vomiting, and stomach pain. The doctors refused to let Lucas get out of bed (he was lucky enough to not be in the hospital wing) and there were two nurses-one a man, one a woman-stationed on both sides of the bed next to him. They were nice enough; the girl talked softer than a mouse and the man hardly talked at all, but they supplied him with whatever he needed.

Antibiotics were given to Lucas to calm the crazy storm in his stomach, but none seemed to have had an effect on the unfortunate Prince. The nurses lingered nearby in chairs, taking notes of his condition as they carefully scrutinized him. Lucas despised the uncomfortable attention but pretended not to take notice of their examining. Instead, he focused his droopy gaze on the unnecessarily large flat-screen television that hung on the opposite wall from his bed.

Jackson was doing an extraordinary job pronouncing each girl's name, and Lucas noted that he would commend the older man for doing so well. There was no stuttering or a confused face during the tougher, longer, and rarer names, but he kept his face straight and looked collected-as always-as his calm and soothing voice proudly told the country who the contenders were. As each lady's name was announced, her picture flashed on the television screen with her name and Province. The wonderful liberty of not being at the Report and calling out the names was that the cameras weren't on him; Lucas had no need to fret about looking too interested in one girl and uninterested in the next. He knew how things like this went: the day after, all radio shows, talk shows, news stations, and magazines and newspapers would be all over who the Prince briefly smirked or frowned at or twitched or did anything that seemed out of place. Even readjusting his suit could be taken as a sign.

Not soon after that, the bets would begin. Who would become the One? Who would get to the Elite? Who would be the first elimination? The first date? Money stupidly wasted on guessing was thrown around. Lucas heard that the biggest bet pool had gone past five million dollars. He had scoffed and shook his head with shame; his people only viewed this as a game, a shallow competition. Did his subjects not understanding that one of the girls they were betting for would be their Queen? Lucas didn't understand.

But that matter was for another day.

Lucas had the privilege and ability to pause the program to inspect each face, as five seconds was not nearly enough to look at a face. Lucas greatly appreciated this opportunity in his pain and greedily took advantage of it.

Even as he threw up.

Again pausing the television, for maybe the eighteenth time (Lucas wasn't sure), the Prince examined another foreign figure. He wasn't nearly impressed by her small smile and wide eyes; it was as if she tried to pose innocently but instead looked utterly pathetic and ridiculous. How many girls would he see with the same fake face and facade? Groaning, he hit the "play" button again, quickly throwing out his hands to signal to his nurses he wasn't in any physical pain. They sat back in their chairs stiffly and looked him up and down with wide eyes, obviously unconvinced their patient was alright.

Leaning his head back on his perfectly fluffed-up pillow, Lucas sighed and lazily hit the "pause" button again. He stared up at the high ceiling and let his mind wander. There were thirty-five young woman who would be living in his home. They all knew his name, yet how would he know which girl was Iona Hampton and the other Kristen Hill? And how to distinguish who was Diamond Pearl and who was Ariel Cohan? Both were redheads.

A shock of painful familiarity echoed around behind his stormy eyes as flashes of Vivienne's orange hair swirled left, right, up, down, consuming his sight. He let himself sleepily remember the memories before straightening up and blinking, letting the orange simmer away to be replaced by the landscape of his room. He felt his grief turn numb, harshly reminding himself he was moving on; so much so, he even convinced the Chief Maids to promote Viv. Though Lucas was still slightly bitter over how things went down between the two of them, he still admired her hard-working ethic and felt it should've been rewarded long ago. He almost missed her can-do attitude before again snapping himself out of his gloomy thoughts. The past was Viv, the present was thirty-five girls, and the future would be just One. Thirty-five girls was going to be insanely hectic in the castle, Lucas was sure.

What would he do if he called a girl by the wrong name? He would be mortified and terribly ashamed of himself, but also embarrassed for the other girl. How terrible would it be to be called by one of your competitor's name? Bad. Very bad, and Lucas wanted desperately to not mess up with these girls. Though only one would become his wife, all of them deserved respect and proper attention.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea lit up lit a firework.

Turning to the left where the female nurse sat and studied a chart, he ordered in a hoarse voice, "Call Chief Maid Lauren Duhamel to my bedroom." The nurse scurried away, peeking her head just outside the bedroom doors to tell the message to the guard standing outside in the hall. After quietly closing the door, she scuttled back to her chair beside the bed.

No more than five minutes later, the tall and thin gray-haired woman appeared, walking inside the ginormous room with the poise and elegance of a high and wealthy two, not a lowly seven. Yet another problem Lucas needed to attend to was the heavy issue with the servants' living conditions. Their Quarters were disturbingly disgusting and their workspace pitifully cramped. It was so hot and humid, the Prince could hardly breathe when he had gone down to inspect the area after it had been brought up in a conversation with Vivienne. It was so bad, Lucas was sure the doctors-in all their nit-pickiness over health and proper oxygen-would have had a fit.

Lauren Duhamel was a highly respected woman, not just with the maids, but with the country, despite her low caste. She had served in the sewing industry in the Palace since she was seven, helping fix dresses for Queen (Princess at the time) Vanessa. Eventually Lauren began making her own dresses, and her beautiful gowns were always the talk of the country, a harmonious mess of sequins and lace and ruffles and tulle all in a single dress. From vibrant and loud colors to soft and warm colors, each dress was a new creation. Her originality had excelled her so much she was now the Chief Maid who directed the Design Department. When Queen Lia was alive, Lauren had been her head designer, but after Lia died, so did Lauren's magnificent dresses.

As Lucas looked up at Lauren now, he hoped the Selection would revive the dormant design movement that had turned bland and boring and dull. He saw her sad brown eyes and deep frown lines and hoped Lauren would be happy again, too; he never saw her smile anymore.

She stood at the foot of his bed, her hands folded neatly in front of her, thin and cracked lips shut tight as she waited for Lucas' directions. Her long, wiry hair was braided down her back, the honorary symbol of a Chief Maid. Her dark chocolate brown eyes seemed neither malicious nor kind, but that was Lauren; she was blunt and neutral.

"You called for me, Your Highness?" She asked in an old, wavering voice that seemed out of place for the bold lady.

"Yes," he responded, throat dry and voice gravelly from throwing up so much. He took a sip of water and cleared his voice before continuing. "I want all dress-sewing maids for the Selection to do something for me." He paused, downing the whole glass of water and shifted into a more comfortable position, his back and rear stiff. Lauren waited patiently for the Prince, looking down at him calmly.

"What are you requesting?" She questioned.

"I'm asking that each dress made for the Welcoming Ceremony is the most outrageous dress known to Illea but I want it to represent the lady based on their form. I trust this won't be a horrendous mash, Lauren, but something similar to your dresses, displaying antonyms perfectly. Beauty and absurdity, loud and quiet, all mixed together to produce a masterpiece. Do you understand?"

The room was deathly silent as Lucas watched Lauren's harsh face slowly unwind and soften. Her rigid body also relaxed, as if her spirit inside her was sighing. A hint of a smile flickered on her face, and the Prince swore she looked twenty years younger. The nurses, still sitting in their chairs beside the bed, awkwardly glanced between the maid and the Royal, unsure of the situation. The doctors were all just as anxious as Lucas was about so many guests and the probability of injuries and sickness, as well as so many people staying inside the same contaminated space for so long. He was very tempted to bring them down to the servants' Quarters and watch them squirm and complain about each and every swipe of dust and dirt.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Lauren murmured, dipping her head in respect. "Would that be all?"

"Yes. Thank you, Lauren. I look forward to seeing your design group's creativity." His eyes followed her retreating form as she slipped out of the bedroom and disappeared. Thinking over his rash and sudden decision, Lucas found his idea wonderfully brilliant. Not only would each dress showcase some part of what each girl was like, but he could apply each girl's name with a picture to remember her by. The crazy dress idea would work; Lucas knew that forgetting weird dresses would be difficult. There was only one downside to the whole plan:

He'd have to remember all thirty-five dresses to remember all thirty-five girls.

THISISALINEBREAKABEAUTIFULCUTELINEBREAK

Two weeks later, the castle had been prepped and ready for the arrival of the thirty-five girls competing for Prince Lucas' slowly mending heart. They would arrive approximately around twelve noon, endure the horrifying makeover process, discover their bedrooms where they would also meet their maids, and get ready for the Welcoming Ceremony that would begin at seven.

Was Lucas nervous?

More than he had ever been in his life; more so than when he had to recite the eulogy he wrote for his mother in front of the whole country. In fact, his nurses, who still checked in on him once every day, though he was becoming ill again. His palms were as drenched with sweat as the ground was from the pouring rain outside. It was almost a bad omen that it would be raining the night he would meet his soulmate and eternal best friend. The thought of it alone released a swirling storm of butterflies and adrenaline to fly and rocket through his veins. He soon began to panic. Would she like him at first? Would _he_ like her at first? What if he sent the One _home?_

Lucas took a long, deep breath, staring at himself in the mirror. His nicely cropped black hair was neatly gelled back and his chiseled jaw clean shaven. Gray eyes the color of the rainclouds outside flicked across each inch of the reflection, judging every detail. He wore a navy blue suit with a white tie and black dress shoes. He looked...regal, especially including the tell-tale sash and crown of the Prince of Illea. Lucas typically preferred not to wear the crown because it always fell off; he would forget he was wearing it and move his head to the side too quickly or lean back, and off the pure-gold crown went. Even without the crown, the twenty-one year old looked confident and powerful.

He hoped it would be enough.

Another boom of thunder growled before the blindingly light flash of lightning zipped through his window. The thought of the bad omen once again rose to the surface of his scattered thoughts. He sighed, praying that there would be little drama throughout the competition.

He wasn't an idiot; it was a hopeless wish.

After straightening his tie once again, Lucas glanced at the large clock above the mirror. Reading the thick roman numerals where the crafted hands pointed to, he discovered it was six fifty-five. Breath hitching in his throat and eyes bulging, he realized he was going to be late. He smacked his forehead. What a first impression with tardiness. Skimming over his reflection once more in the floor-length mirror, he quickly escaped his room and began to take the long path to the Dining Room, where the girls were already waiting for him.

He let different images fly by as he almost blindly walked the familiar halls. He saw happiness and anger and hope and disappointment swirling dizzyingly behind the stormy eyes. Doubt settled, too, and his heart pounded even harder against his ribcage. It was far too quiet in the halls; the only sounds Lucas could hear were the soft pat of his shoes against the freshly cleaned marble floor, the constant pit-pat of rain against the windows, and his stuttering heart flying to his stomach, shooting up to his throat, and back safely to his chest. Even the guards seemed like statues, unmoving and unaware of the screaming panic attack their Prince was undergoing. He clenched and unclenched his hands and his back was stiffer than a rod as he walked. His jaw was tense and his eyes constantly flitted around, unsure and nervous. Heavy breaths escaped his lips and he nervously licked them, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket when he sees the grand pinewood double doors of the Dining Room.

Suddenly the hall seemed to stretch and expand and the doors became very far away. Lucas walked slowly across the great expanse, but he was face to face with the doors within a matter of footsteps. Lucas considered feigning sick and going back to his bedroom. He was scared. He needed a hug and encouragement that he'd be okay.

He needed his mother.

Unfortunately, Lucas couldn't get everything he wanted and this time it was simply impossible to obtain what we desired. Instead, Lucas would have to man up and understand that this was a new chapter of his life that did not depend on his mother's memory. He wondered what he'd see on the other side of the doors. Would it be complete chaos? Would everything good be possibly going wrong? Or would it be awkwardly tense as these girls despised each other and formed murderous cliques against each other? There were too many endings to the story his mind was writing for him, and Lucas had no idea which one he'd face or which one he'd _want_ to face.

Girls were so unpredictable.

They were a foreign species to him, as his mother died young and he had no girl siblings to show him the being of a girl. His only hope was Mitzi, the head coordinator and educator of the Selected. She had taught the two Princes etiquette and politics, and had practically been Lucas' motherly figure through the teen years. Now she would take on the laborious job of handling the Selected girls, teaching them everything about being a Princess and eventually Queen.

A loud burst of laughter from inside of the Dining Room startled the young man back to the present. The guards stationed to the sides of the doors looked at Lucas, and, with the nod of the Prince's head, simultaneously opened the grand doors. Taking one last deep breath, he closed his eyes as he felt the bright light from the humongous chandelier shine down on him.

The girls' chattering silenced as their prize entered the room.

 **Hello! So, next chapter, very interesting stuff happens. Beware. Hope you liked it! And if you did, don't be afraid to tell me! And if you didn't, also don't be afraid to tell me! So excited for this thing to get started. I have like a million plot twists that all may or may not hate me for...we shall find out. Four new things I want to start doing! One, question of the day (very random, so you get to connect to me and I to you). Two, questions related to the chapter. Three, answering any questions y'all got for me. Four, song suggestions. Thank you for reading!**

 **Random Question:**

 **What's your favorite subject? (Science for me!)**

 **Song Suggestion:**

 **Castle, by Halsey**

 **Chapter Questions:**

 **1) What do you think is gonna be going on in the Dining Room?**

 **2) How do you think James is gonna sabotage his brother?**

 **Thanks!**

 **~Hunter**


	8. Chapter 8

**REMINDER: IF YOUR GIRL IS NOT FEATURED IT DOES NOT MEAN SHE IS NOT IMPORTANT. Remember to check out my Pinterest boards (thathuman) for the dresses and descriptions. It will seriously help for this chapter. Explanations below.**

 **Read on!**

Blue.

Flowers.

These were the first two things that registered in Lucas' dazed mind as he gazed through the blinding white light and at the colorful crowd of girls and guests standing in the massive Dining Room. Of course, there were many different colors and shades of colors besides that of blue, but a good portion of the ladies donned a variation of the color of cloudless skies. Even King Carlisle wore a pale blue suit, an old thing Lucas hadn't seen his father wear in years.

Servants and butlers, nicely dressed in ironed black button-cups and slacks, carried trays of champagne. There were no appetizers, which Lucas was absolutely appalled at; his stomach agreed with a rumbling groan.

Before, the room had been filled with chattering and scuttling with soft _swish_ es of fabric twisting and turning, but now, the room had reached a deadly silence. Even the band, who had been playing very sweet classical pieces Lucas was familiar with, cut off in the middle of a song as they sensed the change in the atmosphere. Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes, and hazel eyes stared at him, and the Prince was startled by the intensity most of them held.

One in particular stood out to him; a pretty brunette with almond shaped eyes, standing about ten feet from him with a mostly full glass of champagne in one of her black-gloved hands. She wore a magnificent black and red dress, with ruffles and sparkles and bows, and Lucas thought it should've been a mess, but it was simply art. Her smooth, whitish skin glowed and her confidence radiated from her. The girl was attractive, even with the way she refused to turn her nose down, even to a Royal, and the way she held her broad shoulders back with grace and dignity.

Much like a Royal would.

It wasn't like she was the only one he noticed; all of the girls had something striking about them. For a moment, Lucas briefly questioned if the Selection truly was a lottery, with all these beautiful women that were picked, but shook the thought from his nervous mind. He let himself belief Illea just happened to be a country who's people produced very pretty ladies. Lucas was anxious; he felt his knees go weak as he realized it had been a minute and he was still standing there, and they were still watching him.

After taking a shaky breath, he smiled, but could feel it's crookedness in his cheeks and fleetingly wondered if the Selected thought he looked like a clown. "Hello, ladies," he started, and he swore he heard a girl sigh. He took this as a positive sign and continued. "It is such a pleasure to have each of you here. Before we sit down for a wonderful first meal, I wanted to say a few words.

"I am not perfect. I will not always say or do the right things, and I don't expect you to be someone with no imperfections. Please do not try to hide who you are, for both your sake and mine." Lucas blinked, an image of Vivienne shaking and fading and disappearing when he opened his eyes.

"I am not rushing this; I don't believe love is always realized at first sight, but that it is developed and evolved. I know this will be a struggle for you all, but let's all try to get along, shall we? It would make time here much more enjoyable, I think.

"Finally, I would like to say that I do believe my best friend and future wife is in this group. Thirty-five girls are here, but I am sure that my One is in the midst. I'm not exactly sure what love is, but I'm ready and excited to find out." Swiftly snatching a glass of champagne from a nearby butler's tray, he lifted it and said, "To hope, to future, and to discovering what the definition of love truly is."

After Lucas finished his small speech, the girls were guided to the long dining table, which form a "T" with the Royal's table. Each girl had an assigned seat-something Lucas didn't really agree to (he believed the girls should have sat with who they were most comfortable with)-with a place card that had each woman's name written in neat calligraphy, much like that on the Selection envelopes that seemed from so long ago.

Lucas winced as he observed the Selected trying their best to sit down in their chairs; the dresses were too big and the seats too small for the amount of material each dress carried. He even watched as one girl with coppery-colored hair and a pale blue and beige dress growl in frustration as she tugged the fabric that was stuck behind her and another falling clumsily into her chair with a heavy "oomph" as she tripped on the hem of her yellow dress.

So maybe the dress idea had a few flaws.

Finally, after a few painful minutes of watching the Selected battle with their dresses, they were all seated. Many tried to hide their discomfort and others were too caught up with the food to care. Lucas' stomach churned again as he smelt the buttery bread fresh out of the oven with honey glazed ham and grilled potatoes. Each girl looked expectantly at each other; unsure faces matched each other, but Lucas was unsure why they seemed confused. What were they waiting for?

Apparently, one lady, far along the left side of the table, didn't take notice of the other girls' hesitation. She wore a pretty pink, completely floral dress and had white-blonde hair pinned up in an extravagant bun. Lucas noticed her when he came in; her face was set in a disgusted scowl and she looked utterly unhappy with her dress. She was obviously underweight with cheekbones jutting out and collarbones like branches across her chest. The two girls sitting next to her, looking prim and proper, gazed at her in distaste. Everyone else was looking at the Royals.

Lucas resisted the urge to roll his eyes and settled for a long, exasperated sigh. He looked to his left and saw his father eating quietly and to the right where James should have been but the seat was empty. The Prince frowned in disappointment; Lucas thought James would want to support his brother in finding a wife, but apparently he had other things preoccupying him. He was also slightly embarrassed that the youngest Royal was missing. It made the dinner look unorganized and optional.

"It's okay to eat, girls," Lucas encouraged, picking up his own fork and knife and slicing the ham. There was clinking and clattering as each girl followed his actions and began to pick up the metal cutlery to eat. Lucas watched them.

He felt like a creep.

He observed that some ate fast, others slow, some looked around, some only trained their eyes on their plate. Some scraped their plate clean, others left scraps, some chewed with their mouths open while others chewed with their mouths closed. He hoped Mitzi would first coach the girls on proper etiquette; other countries would laugh at Illea if they saw the way some of the ladies devoured their dinner.

It was painfully awkward.

The only sounds were forks scraping and jaws snapping together as thirty-seven people chewed. No girls talked to each other or bothered to socialize.

So Lucas improvised.

"Well, this is a nice dinner, isn't it?" All heads snapped to him and instantly nodded, some murmuring their agreement. "I was thinking, and we should all get to know one another a little bit, yea?" More nodding and more murmuring answered his question. "So let's begin with going around and saying your name and the one person you admire most." He left out previous caste and Province; Lucas didn't want to be prejudiced against these girls, and eventually he'd find out about where they came from anyway. The Royal was also unsure if stating caste and Province would create cliques. He hoped it wouldn't, but the minds of women were something foreign to him and they seemed to create obscure ideas. He didn't want to provide any negative ammunition.

Looking to his left, he saw a very attractive blonde in a gold and white dress. He nodded to her, and her intelligent blue eyes responded, looking away to gaze at the other girls and saying, "My name is Eris von Justice and the one I look up to most is my brother, Galaxy von Justice. He's a detective and has always been there for me when I needed support," she clarified as she saw blank faces.

"Very nice," Lucas commented, then looked to the next girl to speak. She wore a deep red dress and her ash blonde hair was curled and volumized. Lucas recognized her as some model in a magazine.

Her striking blue eyes locked onto his. "I'm Lilith Hale, and I really admire Prince Lucas for all he's contributed to our country. Thank you," she added, refusing to break eye contact. He felt as if he was a fish caught on a line and she was very quickly reeling him in. Lucas shook himself out of his trance and nodded with a quick "of course." Lilith, Lilith, Lilith...She was...not pretty, not beautiful, but...

 _Sexy._

Lucas felt a blazing hot red blush color his cheeks as he realized how inappropriate yet truthful it was. He broke eye contact as he heard the next girl clear her throat.

The young bachelor almost jumped out of his chair as he saw Vivienne sitting next to Lilith in a black and white dress...until the image of Vivienne shaped into someone entirely different. This girl had shockingly bright orange hair, while Vivienne's was deeper. Her figure was very feminine, whereas Viv's was broad. This was not Vivienne, Lucas realized.

"My name is Ruby Reynolds," she began, her tone surprisingly bold and fearless for her tiny frame. "I truly admire my older brother as well. His name is Sam and he helps take care of our siblings instead of pursuing his dreams because the government is unable to effectively aid us." Lucas was taken aback by the pointed glance towards the Royal's table. Were the castes truly untaken care of? He would have to discuss this with his father later. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw King Carlisle calmly continuing to eat, letting no emotion show from the clear attack on his duties.

At that moment, the Dining Room's grand doors creaked open again and Prince James walked through with and easygoing smile and a confident swag Lucas would never have.

Lucas and King Carlisle turned around and watched James quietly take his seat, flashing a dazzling smile with a "hello ladies." Lucas felt his jaw clench in frustration.

"Where were you?" he whispered to his brother as the girls began to talk amongst themselves.

"I had to take care of some security business." It didn't shock Lucas; James was a master with technology and security. He was, however, disappointed that his sibling wasn't there when the dinner began. But, nonetheless, James still looked put together, wearing a light grey suit with a dark blue tie.

The next few girls introduced themselves, and Lucas began to see a trend; it was either a family member or a Royal each girl claimed they admired. He was upset in this.

Then, an auburn-haired young lady in a stunning white floral gown took him by surprise. "Hello," she started in a small, hesitant voice. "I'm Kaia...Kaia Elvy and I really look up to Elizabeth Bennet." Noticing the confused faces she continued, more confidence evident in her tone. "She's the main character in Pride and Prejudice. She's witty and intelligent and isn't afraid of the status quo. I feel like I could definitely learn from her," she finished.

All eyes were on Kaia Elvy as silence ensued. Then all eyes turned to him, gauging his reaction. They were prepared to laugh if he did and ready to applaud if he did. Reading the situation, Lucas simply nodded and shifted his eyes over to the next girl.

She was more plump, but he remembered her name: Iona Hampton. She was one of the few from Caste Seven yet could not look more like a Royal tonight. She wore a ruffly pink dress; Lucas could not see her wearing anything different. Her smile lifted her cheeks and he noticed that her eyes squeezed shut when she laughed her loud yet pleasant laugh. She was beautiful, and Lucas wondered what more beauty he would discover as he got to know her. "Hiya ya'll," she said in a Southern drawl. "I'm Iona Hampton and-"

The grand Dining Room doors opened again, revealing a young man...

and a cat.

A brown, fluffy, pudgy, _feline._

That Lucas most definitely did _not_ permit.

His father, observing the quick pull at Lucas' suit as the muscles in his back tightened, told him, "Calm down. Lady Ayesha-" Lucas had identified her as the bold woman in the black and red dress he first saw-"wished to have her brother, Kabir, with her. Complicated family measures," he vaguely explained.

"Yes, yes...and the cat?" He whispered, still looking at the animal as it walked up to Eris' seat, purred and meowed, then walked with Ayesha's brother to a small table in the far corner.

"Lady Eris's cat. She requested very nicely that it came with her."

Lady Eris, sitting so close, heard them and told them sweetly, "His name is Choco."

"Yes, Choco," Carlisle said unenthusiastically.

James stood up, telling Carlisle and Lucas he was going to quickly brief Kabir with security measures.

Gaining control again with the quirk of his lips and a strong voice, Lucas called out, "Let's continue on, ladies. There's still a few more to go."

Iona continued, explaining how she adored her father and how he was much like a friend and less like a father. James returned a few minutes later, looking rather smug and comfortable. Prince Lucas didn't take much notice of it; he simply believed his brother loved the security job he possessed.

A brunette with a bright smile and a shining gold and green dress caught the attention of all in the room. She, as well as Lilith and Ayesha, held a powerful presence in the room. By then, all had finished their meal, but no servants had taken the plates away. It was a new etiquette trend; too many people had been smacked with a plate and it was awkward for both the servant and the consumer. The young lady glanced around and announced, "Hello, everyone! My name-" She was cut off with the sound of the brown animal, _Choco_ , snarling and jumping up on the table and towards the girl. Her neighbor, a blonde in an odd green and pink dress, tried to get out of the way, but her dress snagged on the leg of her chair. She clumsily flew forward, and, in an attempt to stop herself from bashing her head on the table, the blonde gripped her hands on the tablecloth. It slipped forward, and the brunette's plate, still full with honey ham and buttered potatoes slipped and crashed down on the gold dress. Her small glass of wine was also knock over, and spilt on the gown, effectively ruining it.

And the cat hadn't even gotten to her yet.

Choo slipped across the table and the plates, crashing into the wax candle centerpieces and pushing them over, and the table burst into bright orange and red flames.

It was like a stunt mostly seen at circuses, its purpose meant to shock the audience and leave them gaping at the magnificent light show with "ooh"s and "ahh"s.

The girls were obviously not as excited, or not in a good way at least. Screaming echoed throughout the room, almost creating an eery melody in a moment of chaos. They left the room in a flurry as the poor brunette was caught under attack from the cat. He clawed and hissed at her, tearing through her dress and her skin. The bright blaze of the fire didn't seem to concern the animal as it ferociously ripped away at the human.

Finally, Lucas found his legs.

Apparently, so did the guards.

The fire, which scorched a trail down the whole table and onto the Royal's table, was put out with the fire extinguisher that was kept in every room of the Palace, for safety measures. The tablecloth, once lacy and pure white, was diminished, hardly a few pieces of seared fabric hanging together. The maple wood underneath was badly burnt, and Lucas swore it smelt like bacon.

He ran over to the struggling brunette, who had been pushed to the ground, and grabbed the scruff of the cat. Choco twisted and snarled in his grasp, sharp teeth baring and brown eyes flat against his head. A guard quickly took the cat and disappeared through the Dining Room doors.

Lucas watched the guard walk away before training his stormy gray eyes on the hurt woman, who was panting heavily on the now bloody dark hardwood floor. Her hazel eyes were blown wide with shock; her pupils were dilated and she looked paralyzed, her hands curling into her dress while her legs stayed limp. One of her emerald green heels had broken, and Lucas could have thought she had just fought a war with the way she looked.

Kneeling down, he made her eyes focus on him. She blinked a couple of times before grunting.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Do you need me to carry you to the hospital?"

"I...What? Hospital? What?" she breathed, slightly dazed. Then she shook her head vigorously, as if snapping out of a daydream. "Of course not. I'm fine. Thank you, though."

Lucas narrowed his eyes at her and skeptically told her, "You don't exactly model 'fine' at the moment, my Lady."

She let out a small giggle and looked down at herself. "You know, I make dresses, and this was positively the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen." She smiled up at him and down at the dress, playing with the gold fabric with her nimble fingers. Slowly the smile faded and she whispered, "And now it's ruined."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"We could always make another one," he suggested, trying his hardest to lighten her mood.

She cocked her head, a twinkle in her eyes. "We? I didn't know you were educated in creating gowns, Your Majesty."

He let out a breathless laugh. "It's Lucas. No need for formalities. And no, I wouldn't even know where to begin with a needle and a thread. But you could probably create dresses with your maids," he proposed, watching her eyes lighten and feeling proud of himself. "You know, add your own individuality and style."

"You think so?"

"Well, if it was a problem, I could always just demand it," he joked. She giggled and nodded.

"Thank you, Lucas," she said meaningfully.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Lady..." he drifted off, realizing she never got to state her name.

"Nina. Nina Nesbit."

"I'm sorry to have had to met you under such...violent circumstances, but I hope I make up for it with a date." He flashed a sweet smile and watched as her smile widened.

"Of course," she happily said. "As I like to say, 'in every bad there is a good.'"

"I think I'll use that in the future," he responded thoughtfully.

Helping Nina up, he led her out of the Dining Room doors and down the hall, up the three flights of stairs to her room, where her maids sighed in relief before rushing into a deep curtsy at the sight of their Prince.

Nina was ushered into her room and Lucas chuckled as he heard gasps and then cheers and the young lady was undoubtedly relating the story of the attack and the conversation with the Prince, including having the first date with him.

Lucas pondered about his choices so far. Was it too early to have a date? He felt it would have been under normal circumstances, but Lady Nina had been attacked by a cat; Lucas found his choices justifiable. Rounding the corner to another hallway, he leaned against the ivory painted wall. It was a fresh coat, much like almost every other wall in the Palace; since the announcement of Lucas' Selection, there had been a flurry of changes to make the Palace new and refreshing.

He sighed, realizing just how horrific a start to this adventure was. He couldn't get over the fact a cat-a domesticated, furry animal-attacked a girl, on the _first night._

He prayed to God it wasn't a bad omen, but Prince Lucas felt it.

It was a warning sign

 **So, I've got a lot to say and plenty of excuses but I'll keep it short and sweet XD. School has been a kicker and I'm pouring a lot of attention into that, family drama has been distracting, and, sadly, someone I care deeply about died unexpectedly. My mind hasn't had writing on the forefront and I hope you all can understand that. I'm so sorry for these late and long updates. Please just bear with me.**

 **Questions:**

 **1) What do you think was the whole deal with Choco?**

 **2) What do you think Prince Lucas' date with Nina is going to be?**

 **Fun Question:**

 **Hmm...Favorite animal.**

 **Mine is a snow leopard or a gray wolf. Love them.**

 **Song of the Week/Chapter:**

 **American Pie by Don McLean**

 **Read and Review! I love seeing what you think, good or bad!**

 **Thanks!**

 **~Hunter**


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